Bleeding Heart. AM Hartnett

underneath the new bed.

      She was looking forward to breaking that queen bed’s cherry with someone, using the contents of that basket. She’d had enough unpleasant experiences of screwing on unwashed sheets with the sound of rowdy roommates playing videos games just outside the bedroom door, and that was only when she’d had boyfriends who weren’t in the same boat as she was.

      She could have gotten by with her old double mattress, but she’d wanted a bed made as much for sex as it was for sleeping.

      And there was the new vibrator.

      It cost almost as much as her security deposit and she could have better spent her money elsewhere, perhaps getting a coffee-maker that had more bells and whistles, but after taking her masturbatory sessions in thirty-minute windows when her family home was actually empty, she felt she had earned her stylish vibrator.

      As soon as the caffeine had kicked in, she rolled onto her side and slid the basket out.

       Hello, Miss Scarlett.

      It was a top-of-the-line rabbit, with words like ‘ergonomic’ and ‘dually stimulating’ and ‘supple’ in the description, and she’d almost talked herself out of it, given the number of less expensive toys she should have bought, but the reviews had enticed her.

       Two orgasms in five minutes.

       Never came before I used this.

       Almost passed out.

      April flopped on her back and closed her eyes, then turned the vibrator on.

      She gave herself just a bit of pressure through her panties. The little rounded ears of the rabbit hummed, and for a second April listened for movement. Realising she was alone, that no one was sleeping across the hall, nor would they come knocking at her door for some silly reason, she relaxed and increased the power by one setting.

      Good, but not not great. She was definitely feeling the effects of the toy, but there was something missing.

      The mindfuck.

      Her fantasies weren’t usually about real people. She made them up in her head, like she was the J. R. R. Tolkien of masturbatory fantasies.

      She’d never admit it, but her fantasies would have been perfectly at home in a paperback romance: meeting the bad boy at midnight on a lonely stretch of beach or burning off sexual tension in an office hate-fuck.

      She scrolled through the chapters of her sexual anthology, but it was the blank pages at the end that caught her attention.

      Big arms. A crooked grin. Intense blue eyes.

      Viking? Too cheesy. Biker? Maybe. Construction worker? Getting warmer.

      A late-night panic. A smoke alarm that won’t go off. A knock at the door. Getting wet watching him stretch to reset the alarm. Realising her nightgown was too low cut and too high up on her thighs. A lingering ‘good night’ at the door. A longer ‘good night’ up against the door with her back pressed to the surface and her leg wrapped around his waist.

      ‘Oh…oh, there we go,’ she puffed out as she really started to feel the effects of the vibrator around her clit. Her next flash was of her landlord looming over her, naked and glorious, that naughty smile as good as the vibe he teased her with.

      April wriggled out of her panties and spread herself open as her imaginary lover did the same. Fingers parted her folds and the effect of the vibrator went from good to fucking phenomenal.

      Living at home, she’d mastered the art of a brain-melting orgasm in perfect silence. Now, with no need for a buffer, she couldn’t hold it in. She was soaked and throbbing as in her mind he leaned over her and jiggled the vibe around her clit.

      April sucked in a deep breath, and then fantasy and reality exploded in powerful waves and she cried out.

      She didn’t drop the vibe between her legs when the pleasure became too much. She let the fantasy linger and, like the man of her imagination, she didn’t relent. She took it as long as she could, until her body took over and bucked to be free.

      ‘Oh. Wow.’

      Her legs were so wobbly she didn’t think she could stand if she tried, and she was slippery everywhere. Leaving the vibe on the bed beside her, April closed her eyes and shuddered with the aftershocks.

      The vibrator had given her the biggest bang for her bucks, but it was the thought of being exposed like that for Seth Axworthy that made it that much more delicious. Even as she sprawled there like her bones had been liquified and the thrum of her climax could still be felt along her inner walls, she couldn’t wait to have a second round with both her vibe and the fantasy that went with it.

      With a great sigh, April pushed up onto her elbows. That’s when she saw her voyeur.

      The black cat, Marco, sat prim and proper on the window sill staring at her.

      ‘You little pervert,’ she called to him as she swung her legs off the bed.

      The previous tenant must have let him in, she thought, as she went on wobbly legs to the bathroom. She cleaned the vibrator and left it to dry on the edge of the sink, then drew a bath.

      ‘Well, that was something else,’ she said out loud as the tub filled. She washed her face and clipped her hair up, then pulled out a lone strand.

      ‘I wonder what I’d look like as a redhead,’ she said out loud, and, as soon as the tub was ready, she cut off the water and quickly called the salon for an appointment while she waited for a second cup of coffee.

      Back in the bedroom, the cat still peered inside. He stood on his hind legs and pressed his paws to the glass, and April was won over.

      ‘Just for a minute,’ she said as she pushed the window open.

      The cat wasn’t shy. He butted his head against her palm a few times, then stepped up onto her knees. One quick sniff at her coffee cup and he made another sound, then leaped past her into her apartment.

      ‘Make yourself at home,’ she called after the cat as he strutted through the small labyrinth of cardboard boxes and plastic bins left to unpack. She continued to sip her tepid coffee while keeping an eye on the cat, and contemplated the possibility of getting one her own, some unwanted gentleman from a shelter or a kitten with the energy and ambition to shred her brand-new sofa.

      The cat paused at the foot of her platform bed, then stood on his hind legs for a better look. The thought of a stray rolling around on her clean sheets would have sent her scrambling as soon as the cat leaped up, but her earlier spying told her that this cat was Seth’s little prince, used to the luxury of a soft bed like the one he had found.

      After a quick exploration of the mattress and an approving twitch of his ears, the animal turned and strutted back to the window.

      She stroked him from head to tail. ‘I hope you’re not the first of many men to go running from my bed once you’ve had a roll around in it.’

      The cat curled onto her lap, and April settled back. She was down to her last mouthful when the sleeping beauty in her arms lifted his head and pricked his ears.

      A moment later, April heard a whistle.

      ‘Marco! Going out! Window’s closing!’ came a husky male voice.

      April jostled the cat, but he simply looked up at her and blinked.

      ‘Go on. I’m not fighting for custody.’ When the cat still didn’t move, she emptied the cup and set it aside, then scooped the cat up into her arms and set him down. ‘Go home.’

      Another whistle, this one more insistent than before. ‘Marco! Get your hairy balls in the apartment or else I’ll wax them when I get a hold of you!’

      April giggled. ‘Scoot!’

      Another blink, another mournful meow, and Marco sat on her foot.

      ‘For